


an act of surrender (an act of faith)

by vapid



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Car Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapid/pseuds/vapid
Summary: Tobio glances up. Akira’s face is half shadowed, painting the left side of his face in darkness. The denim jacket drapes over his shoulders, threatening to fall into a pool on the dusty grey mat under his feet. Tobio leans into the crook of Akira’s neck and inhales, nose brushing against pale collarbones.Akira smells like lavender body wash, like he smokes a pack of Winston Classic a day, like he belongs to no one but himself.But Tobio wonders if Akira would give himself to him. Just for a while.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Kunimi Akira
Comments: 35
Kudos: 144





	an act of surrender (an act of faith)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fatal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal/gifts).



Tobio swirls the gin and tonic in his hand, watching the clear liquid swish against wavy hills designed on the side of the glass cup. Chipped around the rim, edges smoothed from years and years of touching. 

Tobio leaves for California tonight. He doesn’t know why he’s here at a birthday party when he should be in his own apartment preparing for the long midnight flight ahead, but he finds himself here, anyway. 

After all, this isn’t just anyone’s birthday party. 

  
  
  


Tobio had received a text message ten hours earlier. _I’m having a birthday party tonight. You can come if you have time. No pressure, though._

The notification had wedged something in his heart. He should just ignore it. He’d scolded himself, over and over again. He should just ignore it. Yes, yes he should.

He should. But he couldn’t.

 _I’ll go_. Tobio had replied within thirty seconds. _I have to catch a flight tonight, but I’ll go._

  
  
  


Something is smashed on the floor, a sound of glass breaking, but Tobio’s focus is on the liquid shimmering under the dark ceiling light above. Poor man’s drink. Someone is yelling and it sounds like Oikawa. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol droning in his head. 

Tobio pulls out his phone and glances down at the time. He should go.

“I should go.” Tobio stands up from his spot on the couch and announces to no one in particular. Or maybe to someone in particular. 

In the corner of his eye is a flash of indigo and an ache blooms across his body. The birthday boy catches his announcement with a raised eyebrow, thumb hooked on the waistband of his jeans. 

Tobio blinks and Kunimi Akira's standing less than two meters in front of him, offering to drive him. Tobio wants to refuse his offer, but the words are sticky in his mouth when his eyes meet his: they’re soft, dark, like graphite. 

“I wanted some fresh air, anyway,” Akira twirls his keys between his fingers, sounding bored. “Just let me drive you, Kageyama.”

Tobio’s name sounds lyrical falling from his lips. It pulls him in and tightens the strain in his chest.

And so Tobio surrenders.

They don’t speak for about ten minutes. The streets ahead are identical to Tobio, entirely oblivious to the world around him except for the boy sitting to his right. It isn’t until the car jerks to a stop a safe distance away from the party crowd did hands land on Tobio’s chest and Akira’s clambering across from the driver’s seat, settling down on his thighs.

Hm. Maybe Tobio should have seen it coming. Maybe he did.

A silver Audi SUV, parked on the side of a road leading somewhere or maybe nowhere at all, but that doesn’t matter. Not to Tobio. 

The only thing that matters right now is right here in front of him. In the form of gelled hair and black eyes and a burning ache in his chest.

The car smells musky, like worn leather. Cigarettes. Cherry scented air freshener that melts into the kiss Akira plants on Tobio’s mouth. Akira tastes like store bought vodka. _Kunimi_ , Tobio whispers, the name falling from his lips feeling foreign to his tongue. Bitter, but strangely more-ish. 

Tobio wants to keep saying it. _Kunimi_. _Kunimi_. 

Spots of blue land on Akira’s skin, fluorescent white light pouring through the dark window from a single streetlight. Tobio snakes an arm around Akira’s waist and traces his tongue along Akira’s mouth. 

“This your car?”

“It used to be my dad’s,” Akira says, bending his head down and grazing his lips along Tobio’s neck. “It’s mine now, though.”

Tobio hums, running his fingers along the curve of Akira’s back. “Birthday gift?” 

A kiss on the jaw. Akira trembles. “Mhm.”

Tobio glances up. Akira’s face is half shadowed, painting the left side of his face in darkness. The denim jacket drapes over his shoulders, threatening to fall into a pool on the dusty grey mat under his feet. Tobio leans into the crook of Akira’s neck and inhales, nose brushing against pale collarbones.

Akira smells like lavender body wash, like he smokes a pack of Winston Classic a day, like he belongs to no one but himself. 

But Tobio wonders if Akira would give himself to him. Just for a while.

Akira tangles his fingers in Tobio’s hair, smoothing strands behind his ear. He smiles faintly, rubbing a thumb across the budding redness on Tobio’s cheek. The smile widens when Tobio’s hand starts drawing circles in the skin just above the waistband of his black jeans, dancing softly across an expanse of white.

“What time’s your flight again?” The question treads on a surface of silence; never breaking it, but it bends ever so slightly, sighing under the weight of Akira’s voice. 

“12:47.” Tobio answers, removing his hands from Akira’s hips and cupping Akira’s face in both hands, pulling him down again. Desperate to feel Akira against his mouth once more. To feel the empty space in between their bodies shudder and disappear. 

Akira obliges, not without a small smile pulling the corners of his lips. Tobio kisses him slowly, savoring the sickly sweet remnants of a chaotic night celebrating Akira’s turning 21. 

Twenty one. Tobio hadn't brought a birthday gift to the party. He closes his eyes and counts: ten kisses on the mouth, ten on each knuckle on Akira’s left hand, one on the patch of skin in the dip between his collarbones. 

Akira’s lips are soft and Tobio starts counting. 

_One_. It’s a delicate kiss. It reminds Tobio of cold mist creeping up a car window on a spring night much like tonight.

 _Two_. Their teeth clash a little and Akira chuckles against his mouth. The sound floats in the air and vanishes.

 _Three_. The kiss deepens. Tobio’s hair is a mess.

 _Four_. Tobio tilts his head sideways. Akira does the same.

 _Five_. Akira’s tongue is between his lips, wet warmth enveloping his senses.

 _Six_. Akira wraps his arms around Tobio’s neck. A dull pressure builds in his chest and Tobio thinks about his flight.

 _Seven_. Tobio wraps his fingers around Akira’s waist and squeezes. Akira’s tongue is exploring his mouth and Tobio thinks about the time on the digital clock crawling.

 _Eight_. Akira’s tongue presses against the roof of his mouth and Tobio thinks about love.

 _Nine_. Tobio pulls on Akira’s bottom lip and it incites a breathy gasp, hot air against his skin and Tobio thinks about making love.

 _Ten_. The last kiss is long, unwavering, and Tobio thinks about making love with Kunimi Akira.

Tobio pulls away and they’re both out of breath. With a shadowed blush on his cheeks Akira seems to gleam in the dark. They stare at each other, the air hanging on their every breath heavier than liquid, dark eyes piercing dark eyes in search of something in one other. What they’re searching for, exactly, they don’t know.

And so nothing seems to pass through their gaze. Or maybe everything's passed through their gaze. Tobio reaches out and takes Akira’s hand in his own.

“...And what time were you supposed to meet up with the team again?” Akira throws out the question, letting out a quiet exhale when Tobio starts placing small kisses on quivering skin, stretched across the rough ridges of his hand. 

“10:30.” Tobio answers, sounding mechanical. His lips graze the pale pink on Akira’s knuckles. _One, two, three, four, five._

He turns Akira’s hand over and presses his mouth on the center of his palm. Akira’s gaze is indiscernible as he watches Tobio, his free hand gripping the collar of Tobio’s shirt. _Six, seven, eight, nine, ten._

“‘Kay. We still have some time then,” Akira muses, tone subdued. 

_Stay, stay. Don’t go. Stay with me._ A voice murmurs softly in Tobio’s head, caressing the side of his face. He pushes it away, pushes it down his throat.

Tobio doesn’t answer. Instead, he continues to kiss him with abandon, falling, falling, falling. Akira is beautiful in a plain white shirt, beautiful when he exhales each time Tobio’s lips come into contact with the most insignificant parts of him no one has ever bothered touching. Like the curve between his thumb and forefinger and the infinite number of zigzag patterns in his skin. The flatter side of his palm. The dimples between his fingers. Carefully clipped nails. 

Tobio, with strange reluctance, presses a final kiss in the hollow space between Akira’s collarbones. _One_. A mark of silent devotion.

The clock in the dashboard blinks, dots of electric blue. Numbers start to lose sense to Tobio and he wonders if this is okay. He feels weight sinking down further on top of him as Akira pulls the lever on the side of the seat and Tobio thinks: _maybe this is okay._

Akira places a knee against the seat and huffs a little, pushing the seat backwards. Tobio feels the seat recline to its maximum and he shifts his weight on his elbows. He tears his gaze from the clock and catches Akira staring at him.

“What, worried about your flight, Kageyama?” Akira’s voice is airy, a challenge tinting his every word. 

Tobio blinks. “I dunno. Maybe.” 

Akira snorts, pushing a fistful of Tobio’s shirt up in one swift movement and Tobio lets Akira do whatever he wants, without thought. “Work etiquette flying out the window, huh?”

Tobio scowls but he says nothing. He can’t say anything. Not when Akira’s head is bending downwards and he’s planting kisses in a trail down his chest, firm hands smoothing over his abdomen. 

“You’re not helping, you know.” The air feels dense, thick in Tobio’s mouth. It tastes like cherry air freshener and cold currents from the vents. It tastes like Kunimi Akira. 

Akira hums, wicked mirth in his voice. “Oh, I know.” 

Tobio gasps when Akira’s mouth latches on his nipple, lazily flicking his tongue across the nub. Akira pulls it with his lips and lets go with a _pop_ and Tobio shivers as he blows cool breaths of air against his chest. Akira rubs the other nipple between soft fingers, brushing the pad of his thumb across his skin. 

“Kunimi…” Tobio’s voice falters. _Kunimi. Kunimi_. 

Akira continues on, pressing wet kisses in the slim concavity between his chest muscles, licking a long strip up to his collarbones. Akira kisses back down and focuses his attention on the other nipple, drawing circles around the nub with his tongue. A light sheen of sweat spreading across the sides of his forehead pulls lone wisps of inky black from his gelled hair. 

He runs a hand down from Tobio’s chest to the small bowknot tied in the center of his sweats, tugging the strings and letting them fall on the sides. Akira yanks the thick material down in one swift move and off comes Tobio’s boxers, cock half-hard already.

A smile tiptoes and rests on the curve of Akira’s mouth at the sight. With one last kiss on Tobio’s nipple that incites a breathy whine, Akira kisses his way downwards until his mouth is mere centimeters away from the tip. His knees bend and they rest on the mat. 

“Huh. Not bad, Kageyama,” Akira hums appreciatively. Tobio doesn’t know whether he wants to die right here in this car or devour Akira whole. Maybe one after the other.

“Shut up,” Tobio mutters, embarrassment coloring the shaky tone of his voice. 

“It’s a compliment, take it or leave it,” Akira grins, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he drinks in the sight of Tobio’s length, pressed along the right side of his stomach. Akira bends his down and presses an experimental kiss on the tip and Tobio jerks, a shudder ripping through his body. 

“Fuck,” Tobio mumbles. Akira’s barely done anything and Tobio’s already melting in his hands. 

“You’re sensitive.” Akira observes, running a finger up and down Tobio’s cock, tracing the veins strained against skin. His gaze flits upwards at Tobio for a split second before the smile widens on his face; sly, unreadable, out of reach again.

From Tobio’s angle, Akira’s face is basked in a pale glow. The curve of his cheek slips and falls downwards to sharp collarbones, an expanse of shadowed skin peeking through a white low-cut shirt. Underneath the dim fluorescent light, Akira feels like a stranger. 

But Tobio doesn’t think he cares about that. Stranger or not. He feels like he _should_ care, but with Akira and his mouth dangerously close to touching the tip of his cock again, the significance of everything slips like water from his grasp. 

Before Tobio could even conjure up a coherent sentence in his head, Akira is hollowing out his cheeks and spitting into the palm of his hand, wrapping his fingers around Tobio’s length in one fluid motion all within a matter of seconds. The sudden contact shocks through Tobio, the feeling of an unfamiliar hand, icy cold against his skin.

Akira pumps at a slow pace, eyes trained on the growing thickness until it’s fully hard, heavy in Akira’s hand. Tobio vaguely wonders if it would be just as heavy sitting on Akira’s tongue, instead. 

“ _Shit,_ ” Tobio curses roughly, voice withering in his throat. His lower stomach curls, a dull ache gaining momentum. The gradual increase in speed has him panting, dampness dotting the pads of his fingertips as he grips the leather sides of the reclined seat. 

Akira’s wrist swishes with a lighthearted quickness, each pump sending streaks of pleasure right down Tobio’s cock. Akira flattens his thumb over the tip and leans in, pressing a small kiss, gathering pre-cum on his tongue.

Tobio’s breathing shortens with each passing second but the pleasure is entirely short-lived. Akira starts to slow down his pace, his fingers moving to smooth across coarse skin until it ceases to a stop; he leans forward and gives Tobio one last lick before he removes his hand entirely.

“What the fuck—”

“That’s enough for now,” Akira interrupts him, humming merrily at the way Tobio had fallen apart under his control.

Tobio fumes silently. _God_. What a joy it must be, for the boy with a cage around his heart, to watch him as he comes undone. 

Akira rises from his position and settles down on top of Tobio again, the weight of a warm body locking down on Tobio’s lap. With a smile he wraps his arms around Tobio’s neck, ruffling the short hairs brushing the back of Tobio’s neck. The brief touch is affectionate, tender.

“I’m gonna ride you, Kageyama.” 

It sounds like a declaration—whether it's one of love or war, Tobio doesn't care. He takes it as a command and obliges; he doesn’t question it, he doesn’t read into it. He simply lets himself be molded into the intricate lines of Akira’s body. Lean shoulders, firm waist, the warm curve of skin behind his knees bruised from kneeling.

Tobio surrenders again. 

“Okay.”

Akira unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off, letting the denim cascade down into a black heap on the floor. He traps Tobio between his thighs, dusty blue and beautiful, and Tobio thinks he can look at a face forever. 

Akira straightens up and turns to the glove compartment behind him. The compartment opens with a low _click_. Tobio peeks from behind Akira’s figure and catches sight of boxes, piled upon one another, blue and red and silver. Next to these boxes lies a sleek black bottle, laid horizontally.

“Thought you didn’t have lube with you.” Tobio says, mostly to himself. He can taste the bitterness creeping back, sharp on his taste buds.

“‘Course I have lube here,” Akira answers blankly. “And condoms, obviously. I was just too lazy to turn around.”

Because of course, two-in-one packs of Durex and lotion bottles always come as essential components of a second-hand car.

Tobio says nothing. The fluorescent light outside the window flickers and Akira’s face drowns in the shadows.

Akira brushes Tobio’s hair behind his ear, a glint in his eyes shining brightly in the dark expanse of night sky behind him. “Don’t look so upset, Kageyama.”

“I’m not upset—”

Akira kisses him and shuts him up. Tobio’s unfound frustration dies in his throat. Akira’s lips are salty, impossibly sweet. The kiss Akira initiates this time round feels different, somehow; it’s sloppier, more urgent, filled to the brim with a fervency alien to Tobio. 

“You’re very easy to read sometimes, Kageyama,” Akira whispers into Tobio’s mouth. “It’s written all over your pretty face.”

Tobio groans and bites down on Akira’s lips. Akira inhales sharply as Tobio pushes his hips upwards, grinding harshly against the thin cotton material of Akira’s boxers. 

“If you could read me so well—” a restrained thrust and Akira shudders. “—then why did it take you so long to do this? After all this time?”

Akira pulls back and raises an eyebrow. His voice is silvery, a faintest hint of breathlessness. “And you? What about you?”

The question bounces off the window with a rattle. It stays in the car and slowly permeates the confined space. Tobio swallows, infinite answers struggling to come out but his words are wedged tightly in his throat. 

“You…you’re so...you’re so fucking hard to read. I never know what you’re thinking…” Tobio manages to mutter out but his eyes are trained on a pale hand reaching into the glove compartment, picking up a stray condom and the black bottle between his fingers. 

Akira doesn’t seem to be listening. His eyes are obscure, unbearably so, when he glances down at Tobio and their gazes lock. Tobio stares back, transfixed. Akira quietly takes Tobio’s hand in his own and coherence drains from Tobio’s head like the clear liquid dripping onto his own fingers. Akira doesn’t stop until a perfect pool forms in the center of Tobio’s palm.

Snapping the bottle shut, he tosses it carelessly onto the driver's seat. It lands with a light thud, a patch of white shining on its surface. 

Akira dips three fingers into the liquid, skin brushing faintly against Tobio’s. He ladles the lube out and strains two thirds of the pool, rubbing it slowly between his fingers. All the while his other hand tugs on the white band of his underwear, languidly dragging the fabric past his hip bone like he has all the time in the world right here in his grasp. The worn waistband sticks against his skin and Tobio wants to pull them off with his teeth.

“Use the rest of that however you want.” Akira’s voice is dreamy, dark blue light etched into his skin.

A bottomless pit and Tobio falls again, head-first this time.

“...Okay.”

Akira eyes shimmer, a phantom smile on his lips. He finally manages to tug his underwear down, cock springing up and pressing against the grey white of his shirt. Tobio swallows, eyes trained on Akira, muted pressure churning in the pit of his stomach. 

Akira leans forward and reaches a hand behind himself, placing his other hand at the firm base of Tobio’s throat. Tobio stills, breath catching. Akira’s hands are cold but they burn against his skin—a proclamation, a gentle warning. _Don’t move._

“Watch me.” 

Akira presses a soft kiss against Tobio’s mouth, using his tongue to trace the edge of Tobio’s lips. Kitten licks. Vulnerable, pretty, unreachable. His palm presses down, fingers dancing across the sides of Tobio's neck with a pressure enough to create a sea of haziness in Tobio’s head. 

Akira rests his chin on Tobio’s shoulder and props himself up. Tobio is trapped in his seat, Akira’s hand around his throat, white fog in his vision. A whine escapes him when he feels Akira’s body tremble, pale fingers slowly sliding into his hole. Akira breathes out a sigh, grip tightening around Tobio’s neck and Tobio feels his head spin upwards into the clouds. Akira’s quiet exhales reverberate around the car, every sound sending relentless shocks of pleasure straight towards Tobio's cock.

Tobio stares at the way Akira’s fingers glide in and out, mesmerized. Lube trickles down his inner thigh and it lands on a patch on the worn leather seat and Tobio’s cock twitches painfully. With whatever’s left in the palm of his hand Tobio reaches down and touches himself, shuddering when cold lube lathers his skin. Akira kisses the side of his neck as Tobio pumps himself slowly, Akira’s eyes glossing over as one finger becomes two, two becomes three. Akira's breath is hot dancing on his skin, black eyes burning into the hand on Tobio’s length, working the growing pressure in Tobio’s stomach.

The car is dark, the air heavy as they watch each other fall apart. 

“I’m ready.” Akira murmurs, a quiet sound.

Tobio’s brain is slow as he fumbles for the condom placed in the armrest box, ripping it and rolling it down his length. His breath hitches when Akira shifts his weight and positions himself over his cock, dampness engulfing the tip and all of his senses. Akira’s eyes are pitch black, glittering, as he slowly sinks down.

A low sigh escapes Akira’s lips and Tobio leans upwards and catches it with his own. The kiss is brief, hasty, encapsulating the air between them. Tobio doesn’t know why, but he smiles into the kiss. Somewhere in his head, a tingling sensation tells him that maybe Akira’s smiling, too. 

Tobio pulls away and reaches a hand up, hesitant at first, and cups Akira’s face. His expression is hidden, mystery coloring his cheeks light pink. Tobio brushes a thumb across the skin, quiet delight bursting inside him at the faded heat emanating from his face. 

Tobio drags his hand down, relishing the smooth surface of Akira’s skin over the light cotton material and the firm muscle in his sides and hip, aching to be touched. Unable to stop himself, Tobio pushes Akira’s shirt up ever so slightly. Washed out blue paints the ridges of his ribcage and Tobio revels in each curve and dip of bone and skin. He’s beautiful.

“You’re beautiful.” 

Akira simply smiles. He bends down and presses a kiss on Tobio’s forehead. “Says you, pretty boy.”

Akira wastes no time and sinks down further, earning a hiss from Tobio when hot skin comes in contact with his hips. Tobio resists the urge to thrust upwards, a twinge of something quivering throughout his body.

Akira’s body shivers, Tobio’s cock filling him up completely. “Fuck, Kageyama…”

Tobio closes his eyes and submerges himself in the way his name falls from Akira’s lips, melodic as it disappears into the night. Akira starts moving, an urgency in his pace that immediately knocks the wind out of Tobio’s lungs. 

His words are cut short by a sudden plunge and Akira’s throwing his head back, the car shaking faintly under the weight of two bodies. Akira sways forward a little and his eyes are misty, the pressure enveloping Tobio’s length sending his mind reeling. 

Tobio feels numb, a dull throbbing in the pit of his stomach. Akira’s fingers dig crescents into his skin through the fabric of his shirt, his gasps drowned out by the slick sounds of himself slamming down on Tobio. 

“ _Tobio_ —” hia first name that rips from Akira’s throat is high, a breathy sound completely foreign to Tobio and he feels his heart pound, shudder and fall, adding burnt weight to the building curl in his lower abdomen. 

The pressure grows and grows until it overflows in an instant and Tobio’s toppling over. His entire body tenses up and he’s coming inside Akira, the orgasm shattering through his senses. Pleasure shoots from his cock and he feels his entire body go limp; on top of him Akira’s panting as he comes, tears lining the edges of his eyes. He comes fast and hard, white streaks landing on the black stretch of Tobio’s shirt.

“Fuck,” Tobio spits between his teeth when Akira’s hips continue to belt downwards, sending Tobio’s mind into overdrive as his cock pulses into the condom, mind going slack. Akira slumps down, chest heaving against Tobio’s in a mess of limbs and sweat.

The clock in the dashboard blinks 10:13 when they both come down, clouded gazes and short breathing filling the car to its brim. On instinct, Tobio wraps his arms around Akira’s burning torso, relishing the contact of skin over the thin fabric of Akira's shirt, laced with sweat and cum. 

They stay silent for what could be a few minutes or maybe hours. The clock blinks 10:14.

Akira breaks the warm silence. “You won’t make it, you know.” 

He sounds amused, mouth pressing lazy kisses along Tobio’s collarbones. 

“I know.” Tobio answers blankly, voice still slightly hoarse. 

Akira hums. “So what’re you gonna do about it?” 

The question hangs in the air for a short while, a second challenge. Tobio says nothing. Outside the night sky deepens and Tobio feels his mind slip like wind between his fingers.

There’s always going to be a next flight to California, a next flight to anywhere he wants in the entire world—but right now Tobio is sitting in a silver Audi SUV with a beautiful boy and he wonders: _will there ever be a next time?_

Tobio steels himself and stares into Akira’s eyes. “One more time.” 

A smile tugs the corners of Akira’s lips, bitten pink in the moonlight. 

“One more time, then.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> WAAAAA happy (belated) birthday elo! thank you for getting everyone into knkg, hope you liked it :")))) 
> 
> this fic was inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nqai0PDfNQE) and also [this](https://genius.com/Alan-watts-falling-into-love-annotated). 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/inumvkis) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/inumvkis)


End file.
